Mirror of Opposition
by Late to the Party
Summary: Durlag's Tower holds items of interest, particularly to those with the imagination to use them. That is, assuming that the crack to one's head isn't the last delusion as one breaks into golden dust. AU.
1. 1

It was going to be a great day, he just knew it. So much had gone wrong over the last few tendays, but today all that changed. It was a mad idea, but he just couldn't help but feel that maybe the whole world was mad.

Squatting down on the cold, hard, stone floor, he squinted at the chamber around him. Its domed roof offered a sense of grandeur, a sense of wonder, and a rather loud, booming echo. The acoustics worked so well he could understand why that demon knight made its home there. As it was, he was almost tempted to. After all, he had all the wardstones; how hard would it be to reset the traps? Then again, if he and Imoen were able to get to the bottom of this nefarious tower, others could too.

Pulling a worse-for-wear leather bound tome from his satchel, the young man flipped open its many pages. As usual, he tried and failed not to see the inscription: a gift from those at home. If only everything could be enchanted that way, he might never need to feel he was lugging rocks around. That was a thought for another time, however. Loosing a sheet, he held it up, rummaged around for one of his many charcoal sticks and set about taking a rubbing from the stone encased mirror.

After a few moments, he had a semblance of its form. A little later, he had a few concept pieces. That was the easy part. The harder part was finding a suitable scrying dish or bowl, but as luck would have it, he might have a solution, assuming it wasn't just another crazy dream…


	2. 2

Cutting across country with Gorion's savage and untimely end seemed like the way to go. The grief and pain, fear and horror was not something to be underestimated, but as Imoen pointed out, maybe they could make something good out of it. She was right, because at least they were together. Setting out to achieve Imoen's dream of becoming adventurers was the only move he felt they had left, and without direction, no place to go, and almost no money and only a few rations, they struck out for Firewine Bridge. And why not?

Of course… they didn't actually know quite where Firewine Bridge lay, but they reckoned that the old elven fortress would have some signs. As it so happened, they ended up in the halfling hamlet of Gullykin. Hearth, home, and food. Good food. Great food, even, and ale, mead, wine, all they could want for. In fact, life in Gullykin was so good and the halflings so welcoming that Imoen suggested that they may as well stay. Wanderlust or no, after a tenday of stumbling aimlessly trying to find ruins, which were just down the road from Gullykin as it turned out, was less fun when the fire wouldn't start and the roadside brambleberries resulted in a queasy tummy and worse. That was a mistake they would never, ever make again. They each vowed never to speak of that particular tree hollow.

In exchange for their stay, Imoen traded the last of their coin and somehow wheedled her way into having them do chores and somehow get paid as well as a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

He could almost put the past behind him and get back to what he loved: sketching. The trouble was, no matter how hard he tried, his efforts always seemed lacklustre and somehow the proportions were just… wrong. It was the same when he tried to play the pipe, bang on a hand drum, or attempt to apply Gorion's lesson in the Art. An initiate he was not, and the resulting mess was a disaster he and Imoen agreed never to speak of. There was a lot of that. Cooking was even worse. Not only did he burn pie crusts while leaving the innards raw, he actually managed to crack the pan. At least, as Imoen commented, he didn't trip up over his feet, except when he tried to dance and the less said on that, the better.

But it wouldn't be a halfling hamlet if there wasn't folk dancing, pie baking, ale guzzling and general cheeriness, would it? In point of fact, he reflected, as he leafed through the journal, his sketching had improved just a little. Maybe it was the shading, or his use of thinner lines against blocks, or the cross-hatching he accidently discovered only to find it was a time honoured technique… but regardless, that sketches of Imoen and that halfling lass, whose name he forgot, but whose light fingers had left him bereft of more interesting stones than he could count, weren't too far off passable.

As with his life at home, Gullykin was too good to last.


	3. 3

A demon knight was a worthy foe. That was something both he and Imoen could agree on. Durlag's Tower was somewhat further afield than Firewine Bridge, but still within spitting distance, or so Imoen claimed. After her last prediction, he wasn't so sure he could trust her, but the halflings assured him it was so.

After Gullykin was burned to the ground, they had little reason to stay, and so off they went. Perhaps it was a blessing that he and Imoen had gone out in search of her friend, braving the dank and drizzle at Imoen's insistence. By the time they saw the columns of smoke, it was too late, and Imoen, dropping down into the scrub and taking him with her as they neared the hamlet, caught sight of the kobolds before he ever did. So that settled that.

Durlag's Tower was a gargantuan affair of dwarven engineering, its architecture a little less impressive than Candlekeep's, but a statement nevertheless. As it so happened, for reasons completely unknown to him and bewildering even to Imoen, there was a guided tour going on, and somehow, they slipped in. Imoen's wide eyes were not quite able to waive the fee, but seeing as she turned out their pockets, hers then his, along with a veiled eyeroll, the rather pompous guide allowed them to tag along, albeit begrudgingly.

Shortly thereafter, the demon knight appeared, brutally butchered just about everyone as they milled around gaping. Everyone, that was, except for Imoen, who instantly dove for the floor while he served as her pillow against the cold, hard tiles. His sternum still carried a bruise from that. With a booming laughter befitting of a theatrical villain, the demon knight uttered a strange syllable and ghostly light ebbed. In the wake of the armoured fiend's disappearance, he staggered haltingly to his feet and pulling Imoen up, he tried his best not to gag. It was in vain. Dry heaving just as much, Imoen tripped, tugged his sleeve and together they fell between the sundered pieces of the mutilated dead. The floor, so slick with blood, saw him crack the back of his head, and at that point, he woke up somewhere else.


	4. 4

Green fire lit the dark, angry cloud-filled sky. That was the first thing he remembered, and his later sketch could not truly capture the bizarre nightmare that made up that turbulent, strangely-out-of-focus ceiling. Not only was the perspective off, it was as if whoever conjured the spectacle couldn't quite remember how clouds were supposed to flow, so instead, it resembled a very odd brook that spat mist.

It was, he considered, the sort of thing his hand might draw. Imoen came to seconds later and fixed him a very odd look. It didn't take long for the ominous green to fill with dazzling pink streaks and that cast an altogether different hue upon the greyish stone walls. It looked, Imoen commented, a bit like Candlekeep, if someone had squinted, stuck their tongue out the corner of their mouth, and then forgot to add at least half the palette and substituted the remaining shades with off-colour pigments from a phoney alchemist.

He couldn't exactly argue with that. The door that led out of the place was a deep, rich mahogany, with burgundy and russet hues. Its frame was so lavish that he wondered quite where it came from, until he remembered a wardrobe he'd once caught sight of nosing into the upper levels while standing watch for Imoen. The door itself was glass, and it opened up a whole new array of possibilities. Possibilities, he found out a moment or so later, that somehow dragged them back to where the demon knight was lurking. The black armoured villain was so prominent in his mind, in both their minds, that the glass had shifted and before they knew it, they were in the domed chamber.

The next thing they knew, they were standing face to face with the stone mirror and their reflections jumped out. Naturally, Imoen was the one to react first and instantly struck a bargain with her doppelgänger, because if anyone could or would, it was her. His own reflection, which became rather too solid, seemed to listen, agree, and a plan to defeat the demon knight took form.


	5. 5

'Defeating the demon knight' was less subtle and more perilous than anything they'd undertaken, but also absurdly simple. Imoen knocked him on the back of the head while her evil double and his scouted, and the weird dream-place reappeared. Stepping back through the glass, she hauled him in, and sticking out her tongue from the corner of her mouth, she watched, waited, and something strange ensued.

Dark Imoen seemed to grow stronger by the minute, and somehow the dagger Imoen carried acquired a shadowy glint and slid through the cracks of the demon knight's armour. Dark Imoen flew out of nowhere and started stabbing like she was insane. She must have been. But with each blow, the demon knight staggered, slowed, and nothing he could do could wound Dark Imoen for long. The first cut saw her wince instead of parting her ear from her head, but the next should have taken sundered her in twain. It didn't.

That was when his own double took the opportunity to shove the demon knight into one of the corridors. That walls flashed as though they were lightning and quite literally smushed the demon knight into goo. It also smushed Dark Imoen, but when the walls parted, she stood there quite unharmed. It was the strangest thing.

After that, he found himself pulled back through the glass door by Imoen and the two girls stepped aside for a chat, while his own double chose rather daringly to explore. That was when he took the opportunity to sketch and take rubbings of the stone-framed mirror.

It wasn't long until the pair returned with identical tight-lipped smiles, real Imoen's eyes alight while her twin's were blacker than night in that non-physical sort of way. One might almost say 'murderous'. This glee was not something he shared, and the prospect of being hit on the head was hardly one he appreciated. But hit on the head he was, and back into the dream place he and real Imoen stepped, while she and her twin managed the man-sized mirror between them.

That was the day chaos was sown. The first mark? The thug who so brutally cut down Gorion, the memory so visceral. It seemed that the glass door could find not only their mark but also those bearing names they knew. So it was a surprise to say the least when the thug's twin, a radiant giant with amber eyes and a cheerful glow shared the names of others his original intended to slay.


	6. 6

The hulking thug identified itself as 'Sarevok Anchev' and spoke a great deal in its mirthful tenor. Aside from sharing 'the list', it rather helpfully helped Imoen improve her technique with her dagger, and proved to be quite the historian, something that neither of the 'Candlekeep kids' ever managed to grasp. Perhaps it was a lack of motivation, or simply being overwhelmed with tomes, or perhaps it was just their content. Either way, Mirror Sarevok was remarkably helpful and patiently taught them both valuable life lessons, including how to do their taxes, something that was left out of their upbringing.

The first name on the list was the half-orc Gromnir Il-Khan, and while the stone framed mirror was aimed at the glass door, Mirror Gromnir immerged. On Gromnir's list was a rather odd character named 'Melissan'. She appeared to be nice and helpful, which made him question whether or not they should try pointing the mirror at her original… as it turned out, Mirror Meli, as Imoen referred to her, was actually incredibly helpful. As radiant as the noonday sky, as illuminating as the dawn, she revealed knowledge as deep, and indeed deeper than Sarevok's with a smile so pretty it could melt proverbial butter.

It was also telling that she was the absolute avatar of patience, as indeed was Mirror Sarevok, for Imoen's second act on that first day was to use the glass door to snag her halfling friend, Alora.

Alora was fascinated by the mirror, but Mirror Meli cast a spell that set the young, frizzy haired lass into a deep sleep and then cast a few more enchantments over the mirror to 'prevent tampering'. It was probably for the best.

Mirror Meli had a list of her own, a list that was even more complete than Mirror Sarevok and Mirror Gromnir's. So Mirror Sendai, a drow of no small magical talent and eyes that sparkled with such light and life she was as the starry sky, Mirror Ilasera; a beautiful elfin maid with grace and delicacy that absolutely enchanted Alora and left Imoen sighing when she sang, and a glorious, regal blue wyrm, Mirror Abazigal. There was also the deeply devote dark scholar, Mirror Balthazar, dark because of his grimness, something that didn't seem to change from his original; indeed, there did not seem to be any discernible difference, and finally, a dignified and noble fire giant, Mirror Yaga-Shura.

In this dream-place, a pact was proposed, an accord. It was set forth by Mirror Meli, who pointed out the danger that their dopplegangers' posed, not just to them, but to the realms. It was at this point Imoen blurted out how could they be sure the 'Candlekeep kids' were sired by the dead god of murder, Bhaal, something that Mirror Sarevok first put forth.

The revelation was something that he wasn't entirely sure how to take, but apparently, according to Mirror Sarevok, the dream-place functioned as an extension of his will. Mirror Balthazar and Mirror Meli both agreed that he could, if he so chose, call the spirits of the dead to him, and that opened up whole new possibilities. So Imoen proposed that he call back both Gorion and his mother, although he privately suspected it was more to debunk the theory. Mirror Sarevok and Mirror Meli were both concerned over this, as his mother was supposedly a priestess of Bhaal and would have sacrificed him, so he decided that maybe he should just hold off. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure what Gorion would say either, and since they were dead, surely they could wait a while longer, couldn't they?


	7. 7

There was a lot of debate over the accord; not because of what it was, but because of how they were to execute what followed it. All of the Mirror Doubles seemed in agreement that something needed to be done and swearing an oath to prevent the dead god of murder from being raised up, something that both he and Imoen were under duress to agree to, an alliance was formed.

The trouble arose with Mirror Imoen, who had made for herself a nest in Durlag's Tower, a nest from which to strike out. The trouble, as Imoen so pointedly put it, was simply that Mirror Imoen had not died. If anything, she had grown stronger, more real, and that had sparked a great deal of debate. Where did the mirror draw its power from? Would the originals slowly fade away? If the mirror was broken, would the doubles disappear? It was Mirror Balthazar who suggested the most direct course of action: eliminate their originals by allowing them to eliminate themselves and then striking the remnant. But that still left Mirror Imoen, Imoen herself argued. And Mirror Imoen seemed to be doing fairly well, if the glass door was anything to go by. Somehow, Mirror Imoen had amassed recruits using the riches of Durlag's Tower, and had acquired a small army, an army she was currently driving towards the city of Saradush.

Indeed, it seemed that all of their namesakes were heading that way, all except his, who seemed to have a score to settle with Sarevok. This would have been well and good except that when his double actually confronted Sarevok, the might of the Bhaalspawn was so great that it sundered and shattered the double, and somehow, despite being in the dream-place, he felt the searing pain. It was so great that he gasped and clutched his chest, staggering; both Mirror Meli and Mirror Sendai caught and gently set him down, while Mirror Ilasera sang to him, calling him 'sweet brother' and smoothing his hair in her silken voice.

He supposed that meant that at some point, either he, or more likely Imoen, would confront her double, and knowing Imoen, she'd be gone before he could stop her.


	8. 8

The glass door revealed carnage, chaos, and a world gone mad. Through the ashes, two victorious figures emerged, one being Mirror Imoen, and the other being a xvart no one had ever heard of. It didn't take Mirror Imoen long to plunge her knife into the xvart's blue skull, somehow emerging in on him in the guise of a battered and broken soldier wearing his colours. The flood of refugees from the region tore at those gathered in the dream-place, although as usual Mirror Balthazar pointed out that it was better that they were able to flee.

He still felt he should have done something but moving them with the dream-place would have risked the mirror. Alora spent a great deal of time playing cards with Mirror Sarevok, who somehow kept her entirely occupied and out of trouble. His belly laughs rumbled throughout the dream-place, while Alora's titters evoked endearing smiles from the elf, the drow and Mirror Meli, the former high priestess of the dead god Bhaal.

While Saradush's fires burned themselves out, along with the trail of destruction left behind by the originals, Imoen prepared to confront her double. A troubled expression on her face, she hefted the pommel of her dagger and brought it down against the mirror's face. It exploded in a cloud. Mirror Sarevok caught her bleeding wrist, gently pried loose the dagger, and wiped her brow with his large thumb. He caught Mirror Meli's eye, and she and Sendai turned towards the glass door and started chanting. Mirror Ilasera held down Alora and the fire giant and the blue drake both took up the right and left of the door.

As the door opened, a barrage of deadly magic flew through, and Mirror Yaga-Shura and Mirror Abazigal charged, the drake spitting bolts of lighting and the giant's hammer crashing down. Mirror Imoen, stared in horror and dissipated in a black cloud. Then the pair stepped back inside the glass door.

Imoen caught his eye. It was almost over.


	9. 9

Ideology is a tricky thing, he decided, as he found himself confronted by Mirror Balthazar's pragmatic and incredibly dry observation. As one of the two remaining Bhaalspawn, his remit was to those left alive in the realms or to those who were dead. Neither choice seemed a sound one, and since Imoen and he were both sworn not to, there seemed to be no other choice but to enact the unthinkable.

That was when Alora wondered if it was possible to repair the mirror. That one thought changed everything as the halfling examined the broken shards, holding them up against the glowing pink-and-green fired sky. It was so pretty, so shiny… and Mirror Meli, Balthazar, Sarevok and Sendai exchanged looks. Not by magic, but by will, his will, here in the dream-place. And so he focused. He focused like never before. For an idea clicked, an idea that might just save them all.

Then Imoen put her hand in his and is mirror-half siblings all joined hands and through Mirror Meli's magic, they were joined in thought, and together, they tapped into and harnessed his and Imoen's latent power, the power of a dead god, and together, they restored the mirror. Then they turned their collective gaze upon the Throne of Bhaal, to the essence of Bhaal, where his spectre still lay lurking, a vile phantom filled with malice. As one, they turned the refashioned mirror and shone his reflection into being. Mirror Bhaal faced down the dark spectre, and with the rest of the doubles, Imoen and himself, they challenged the dead revenant and began to leech the remaining essence from it. Power flowing through their veins, they slew the last vestiges of the evil god of murder and its double took its place.

Raised up by the reflections of its original's children, the newly remade god split its power between those who created it, reversing what its original intended. Becoming fully flesh, still bound by the accord, the mirrors became reality.


	10. Epilogue

Balthazar returned to his progenitor's monastery, and there, the grim scholar cloistered himself with scholars of a like mind. In time, he began a great library set within the desert. Many came, and out of it, much darkness emerged, including a host of undead led by a pair of liches.

Sarevok Anchev returned to the city of Baldur's Gate, where he exposed his foster father Reiltar Anchev and became the fifth Grand Duke of the city after he helped spend the Iron Throne's wealth to rebuild it. He explained that under Reiltar's orders a doppelgänger had taken his face and led the people astray while he was held captive. It was a story so outlandish that little heed should have been paid to it, but the people were so desperate, so hungry for a reason not to be blamed, as well as someone to blame, that they lapped it up.

Meli continued in her role, high priestess to her lord. Sendai served as her handmaiden, but established an enclave within the Underdark, drawing many to her lord's worship. The fire giant Yaga-Shura went with her, her champion, while the blue drake served at Meli's side. Ilasera chose to remain with him, fearing that after such torment and loss, someone should be there for him. Besides, she smiled, she always wanted a little brother. Imoen met this with some scepticism but allowed her to tag along as she and 'Alo' were planning on a great trip, since 'Alo' was now an honourably 'Candlekeep kid'. He, of course, was given little choice in the matter, because after all, now Imoen knew which roadside berries were safe to eat, she still liked the comfort of ducking out, in case they ever needed 'another hollow'.

As for the mirror? It remained within the dream-place, which itself became a pocket dominion of the new god, a god whose profile subtly shifted though few where quite sure as to how or even as to what. All anyone knew was that the dead became venerated, honoured, and the unjustly slain were given a new lease of life in what many swore was Celestia reimagined, an oasis within the Abyssal realm.

 _Fin_


End file.
